


Roads Not Taken

by WallaceAndGromitGirl



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Evil, Attempted Murder, Drama, Forced Relationship, Kidnapping, Multi, Parallel Universes, Pregnancy, Sequel, Skeletons, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallaceAndGromitGirl/pseuds/WallaceAndGromitGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when what might have been decides it wants to be what is? Manolo and his friends are about to find out - and come face to face with the shadows in his soul. A follow-up to "Legends Never Die."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

By the time the city sidewalks had been cleared and salted, school had already been called off for that day. It didn't really matter, most people said. It was the last day before Christmas break anyhow.

Pale grey clouds covered the whole sky, gently pouring snow down on the buildings below. Colorful lights and wreaths hung from the street lamps. People wrapped their arms around themselves tighter and shuddered as they hurried down the sidewalks, a cup of coffee or hot chocolate in hand. In the park, most children hurled snowballs at each other from behind hastily constructed forts. Three children ignored them.

Jane rollerbladed along, laughing as she swerved to avoid snow piles. Goth Boy wasn't far behind, pulling Sasha and five lunch boxes along in a bright red sleigh. The young girl was playfully throwing snowballs at the back of his headas he walked. _"Jingle bells, jingle bells, something something somethiiinnnng…"_

"Would you please stop that?" Goth Boy finally said.

"They're not icky like spitballs!"

"Fine. Then stop being so heavy."

"Come on, you guys!" Jane said, skating back towards them. "Sanjay and Joao just texted asking where we are."

"They can start their thing without us, can't they?"

"I dunno, but they said something about needing a neutral party."She leaned in closer to him. "Besides, you wouldn't want to miss the beginning of a story, would you?"

* * *

Holly and ivy bedecked the facade of the museum, and in the lobby, a massive tree covered in lights and ornaments reached almost to the ceiling. _How cloyingly festive,_ thought the off-duty security guard.

"A little to the left, Guicho!" Mary Beth shouted up at him.

He wobbled on the ladder, trying not to drop the shiny gold bauble. "Here?"

"Just a little further up!"

"Have you _noticed_ how far my arms reach? Why must this thing be so tall, anyway? I'm not this tall! I wouldn't be surprised if it came to life and went looking for someone to eat!"

"Administrative decision."

"Queso and I will show them an administrative decision…" He trailed off as his eyes drifted towards the front doors. Three familiar young faces had stepped into the lobby, taking off their hats and stomping the snow from their boots. With lunchboxes in hand, they hurried to a corner bench where their two friends sat shouting about something he couldn't hear. "…Huh."

The ornament slipped from his hand and fell to the floor, where Mary Beth barely caught it in time. "What's the matter with you?" she said, scowling.

"Take over for me a bit, would you, my dear?" he said. "I need to investigate something." He ambled towards the bench, where the voices of Sanjay and Joao were growing louder.

The blonde boy was reading from a small stack of papers in his hand. "Since Star Trek has already given us cell phones and self-opening doors, it's a natural progression that it would be able to predict this. For example - "

"You're not seriously about to use Nemesis as evidence, are you?"

"And besides, we know there are other worlds! Like the Land of the Remembered and the Land of the Forgotten!"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean there are _parallel_ worlds."

"…Maybe you're just stupid."

_"You're_ stupid!"

Goth Boy grinned. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Well, well. Look who's back." Xibalba stood disguised in front of them, hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. "And what do we have on the menu today?"

Sasha held up her lunchbox. "Thanksgiving turkey sandwiches. And gingerbread cookies!"

"And I brought egg nog! No, not that kind," Goth Boy added as his friends gasped.

"What are you kids doing here, I mean? Don't you have limbs to develop frostbite on?"

"We were looking for a good place to study," Sanjay said.

"And hoping to run into us again."

"…Maybe…"

He chuckled. "So what are you studying?"

"Sanjay and I are practicing for debate class," Joao said. "So I'm say parallel universes exist and he's saying he doesn't."

"Are you, now?" the death god said with a smile. "You're right, he's wrong. End of discussion, go work on something useful."

The children's jaws dropped. "Wait, _what?"_

_"Balby…!"_

"What?" he said as his wife stormed up to him. "It's true, isn't it?"

"But we don't _talk_ about it Not after that business…"

"So is there a universe where we're all space pirate ninjas?" Goth Boy asked eagerly.

"It depends. Did you ever have the chance to be one and turn it down?"

"No. What's that got to do with it?"

"Well, it's a long and delightful tale - **_ow,_** _por qué el oído?"_

"You are not telling them that dreadful story," La Muerte muttered, gripping his ear tighter.

"Why not?"

"Kidnapping, insanity and attempted murder. _Feliz Navidad!"_

"The last story had, like, all of that," Goth Boy said. "What makes this one so bad?"

"If we explain, you'll want to hear it."

"Then why don't you just tell it?" The children all looked at her with the best puppy-dog eyes she could muster, as did her husband.

"…It might be rather hard for you to understand."

"We'll try," said Jane.

"Then gather your things." She and Xibalba walked away from them, towards an unobtrusive door simply labeled **STAFF.** "We ought to do this someplace we won't be noticed."

"A closet?"

She smiled as she opened the door. "Oh, surely you know us better than that."

* * *

Three plush red sofas covered in fine, soft fabric sat around a stone fireplace holding a bright, warm blaze. A number of chairs were scattered around the large rectangular room, each with a small table holding a lamp next to it. The walls were covered in bookshelves, or they themselves might have been the walls. They were packed with books of all shapes and colors and sizes, and they stretched high into the air and far into the distance until they were lost in shadow.

The children gaped at the sight, craning their necks to see better. "Woah. What _is_ this place?"

"It is a place meant for all the gods," La Muerte said as she and her husband changed back into their true forms, "but most are not very taken with reading. Nor are they taken with the literature of mortals. You might call it our personal library."

"Does that mean we're in your castle?" Sasha asked.

"Even the castle is not large enough to hold such a collection as this. It exists in its own space, apart from both our realms."

"So the next time you hear someone moan about what happened to all those books in Alexandria, just tell 'em they're safe and sound," Xibalba added.

His wife rolled her eyes. "Have a seat," she told the children.

"Why did you bring us here instead of the other room?" Sanjay asked as they plopped onto the sofas, bouncing on them slightly.

"I thought you might like to see one of the places from these tales with your own eyes," she answered. "Right now, you're sitting in the very place where Joaquin once sat."

Their eyes bugged out. "Really?"

She nodded. "General Posada, too."

Goth Boy's face twisted in a grimace. "Maria's dad? What was _he_ doing here?"

"This was a matter that concerned him," said Xibalba.

"So what happened, Xibalba?"

He sat, lacing his fingers together and staring at the fire. "It was one night a few months after the business in Aztlan. The middle of the summer. I remember it well." He smiled grimly. "I don't think I'll ever forget…"


	2. Chapter 2

It began with a whisper. A rush of wind, a fissure in the air that rippled and shimmered. Then a flash of light and a sound like a thunderclap, and a small dark figure tumbling across the tiles of the castle floor.

He leapt back to his feet in an instant, one hand flying to the knife at his belt and the other to the sword on his back. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any soul that might need to be run through. The lights of the dining hall were low, and the only person to be found was him.

Shadow-like, he stole to the nearest window and looked outside. The Land of the Remembered was as bright and colorful as ever, and happy spirits were strolling through its streets even at this time of night.

His eyes lit up, and a smile played at his mouth but never quite emerged. "I made it." He was off by a few miles, but he'd made it. His hand went to the bandolier around his chest, to the two vials of glowing gold dust tucked safely in a pouch. He had packed an extra one in case of this very scenario. Just enough to get where he was going and then back. All according to plan. _I'm coming for you. At last._

* * *

 

Xibalba's eyes fluttered open. "My dear?" he whispered. "La Muerte!"

His wife rolled over, waking up in the middle of a snore. "What is it...?"

"I think there's someone in the castle."

"That's impossible," she answered, not moving the sleep mask from her eyes. "Especially not this late. The guards would stop them."

"The guards are outside, and I know I heard _something."_

"Balby, who's going to cross a god's threshold looking for a fight?"

"It still bears investigating."

"Good luck."

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped slightly. "But..."

She had already rolled back onto her other side, loudly snoring once more.

"...Okay, then." Getting out of bed, Xibalba grabbed his staff, slipped out of the bedchamber and crept off down the hallway. "This better be something important."

* * *

 

The intruder stiffened and darted behind the chair at the head of the table, crouching and hunched over as he stared at the door. Footsteps were coming, and the tapping of a staff. He hissed at the sound, quiet and quick. _You won't leave this room alive, I'll see to that._

The bones of his fingers were filed into short, sharp claws. Digging them into the carvings on the back of the throne, he began to climb.

A moment later, the doors to the dining hall were flung open. "Show yourself!" Xibalba shouted as he strode inside. "Do you have any idea what time it is, how did you manage to come in here and why are you stupid enough to come in here? But mostly the first question."

The room was as still as a tomb, dark and solemn. Xibalba raised his staff slightly off the ground, preparing to strike it and unleash the serpent. "If there's anyone here, I command you to speak up."

Several more seconds passed, and still no answer. He finally sighed, rubbing his temple.La Muerte was probably right. "So I'm starting to hear things?" he muttered to himself. "Well, at least it took you this long."

He was turning to leave when something caught his eye. A glint of light, shining in from the window and bouncing off something that was moving. It froze as Xibalba walked towards it, but now he could clearly see a figure the size of a spirit clinging to the back of La Muerte's chair and peeking over the top. Eyes that were two green specks of light stared straight into his.

_No one here has eyes like that._ "Who are you?" Xibalba said as he walked briskly towards the chair. "How did you cross into this realm?"

With a shriek that was high-pitched, only somewhat human and indescribably enraged, the figure jumped from the chair and dug its fingers into Xibalba's face.

The death god screamed and fell over, his staff clattering out of his hand and sliding away into the shadows. The figure swiped at his eyes, trying to rip them out. Xibalba yanked him free and tossed him aside. Dark green blood slowly oozed from the wounds as he sat up, wincing. 

"Who do you think you..." He trailed off as he saw the stranger's face, and his blood turned frigid. "...What?" he breathed.

The stranger got to his feet. "You know me," he said in a voice that was little more than a throaty snarl. "You _made_ me."

Xibalba tried to scramble away, reaching in vain for his staff, but the stranger was on top of him a second later. One hand pinned him down by his neck, and the other held a sword just above the space between his eyes. "Where is the Candle Maker?"

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but it's not my fault - "

_"Where is the Candle Maker?"_

"Please just calm down, La Muerte and I can fix it - "

_"This is your doing!"_ Ramming his sword into Xibalba's mouth, he pulled one side of the god's mouth taut. "Now, answer me or I cut out both your lying tongues. Is the Candle Maker in the Cave of Souls?"

Xibalba stared into his cold eyes, which stared back without blinking. "...No," he finally said.

The stranger pulled his sword away. From somewhere in his throat came a deep, guttural growl. "You're lying," he hissed.

"It's the truth, I swear - " 

The sword was shoved against his throat. _"Believe_ me," said the man, "I've learned to _tell."_

"I don't think we've ever met."

A harsh, unhinged cackle erupted from the intruder. "You _would_ forget, wouldn't you? After all I did to put you here. The least you could do is be grateful."

"Why are you here? Where are you going?"

"The Land of the Living. To claim what's mine. What you stole from me that day."

"If you hurt any of those people - "

"Only if they don't get out of the way." Reaching into a pocket of his bandolier, he pulled out a vial of pulsing red ooze. "But then there's _you."_

_"Balby!"_

Both their heads snapped up. La Muerte was standing in the doorway, her arms partially raised in shock. "Get away from him!"

Backing away from Xibalba, the stranger threw the vial at her. She jumped aside and watched it shatter on the floor. The red ooze hissed and bubbled as it quickly ate through the floor tiles.

"You're not going anywhere!" Xibalba roared, scrambling to his feet. _"Who are you?"_

All that remained of the stranger was the few shards of another shattered vial and hints of gold dust swirling in the air.

La Muerte staggered as she walked towards her husband. "Balby? Was that...?"

"Yes. And no." He wiped the blood from his face. "Go to the library, he won't find you there."

"What about you?"

"He's headed to the Cave of Souls. I need to warn the Candle Maker and get to the Land of the Living. Maybe find out what's going on, be ready when he shows up."

"What does he want there?"

"If I had to guess," Xibalba said quietly, "he wants _her."_


	3. Chapter 3

_"Woah,"_ Goth Boy said. "That guy's nuttier than squirrel poo."

"And _scary!"_ Sasha added, peeking out from between her fingers.

Xibalba nodded. "Oh, you have _no_ idea."

"Did you get to the Candle Maker in time?" Joao asked.

"I found him cowering. No surprise there. Our little house guest was already on his way to the Land of the Living, so we both followed him. We thought we could stop him before he reached San Angel. And that was when things got…complicated, to put it lightly. Well, even more complicated."

"San Angel?" Jane asked. "What did he want there?"

"You'll find out," La Muerte said. "The townspeople had no idea what was about to happen. Things had been rather quiet for the past six months, and nearly everyone was interested in only one thing: watching how the young Señora Sanchez and her first child were growing."

* * *

"'It is one thing to write as a poet and another to write as a historian: the poet can recount or sing about things not as they were, but as they should have been, and the historian'…" Maria looked up from her book. "You're not listening, are you, Manolo?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course. _Eres tan hermosa…"_

Maria shook her head and smiled. Had her husband been distracted by anything else, her frustration would have outweighed her amusement. But his eyes were fixed on her swelled stomach as he lightly and carefully stroked it.

"When do you think she'll start kicking?" he asked.

"Not for a while longer, if I'm lucky."

"Tell me when she does."

"Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary. You'll probably feel it before I do."

Manolo took no notice of her gently teasing tone. "I found more fabric for the toy pig you were talking about. And I finally finished writing that lullaby! I want to play it for her tonight, just to see what happens. Can we paint the nursery yellow? I was wondering if you needed more - "

She placed a finger over his lips. "I think you need to relax, _mi amor."_

"And where's the fun in that?"

Were Manolo to tell her that the past six months had been the happiest of his life, Maria would respond with a simple "I know." His behavior ever since they had learned she was pregnant was proof enough of that. Every spare moment of his time was spent either tending to her or fawning over the baby - mostly the latter. He would sit with a hand on her stomach, chattering to it about anything and everything that crossed his mind. In the evenings, he would strum his guitar in search of just the right tune to lull his wife and child to sleep. Every few days Maria would let him pick out a book he thought the child might like and read it aloud. She didn't mind any of it: the little being inside her was beginning to twitch and twist about, but at the sound of its father's voice, it would lie still as though eagerly listening.

The mother was no less precious to him than the baby. He had recently insisted on taking up all the chores in order to let Maria have her rest, and when she needed anything, be it for her aching back or some odd craving, he would set out in search of it as soon as the words had left her mouth. He was at her beck and call, and happily so.

When the people of San Angel saw him hurrying through the streets on an errand, they usually snickered behind his back. It was a disgrace, they said, being wrapped around your wife's finger so. Hopefully the child would turn out better than its father. Manolo had seemingly learned to ignore the whispers. Maria had not, and a glare from her was enough to stop them for a few minutes.

"They just don't get it," she would say, to herself as much as to her husband. How could they? The gods had never conspired to prevent their families from coming into being. He deserved to enjoy this. Truth be told, she was in just as much awe at what was happening as he was. It all seemed so fragile, almost too good to be true. _That's why he wants to keep me safe, you know._

Putting down her book, she ran her hands through his hair. "You've been too busy. Just trying taking your mind off it all for a few minutes."

"With what?"

"Not what." Leaning forward, she gently pressed her lips to his. His eye lids drooped shut as he sighed -

And then the peace was shattered by the clang of a hooked hand rapping on the front door. _"Mariiiiaaaa…!"_

They both froze in the middle of the kiss, their eyes snapping open to stare at each other. _Oh, no…_

Maria was the first to break the silence. "Go see what he wants," she whispered.

Manolo's gaze drifted to the door, morphing into a mixture of apprehension and contempt. "What if we just tell him we're not home?"

"You promised you'd be kinder to him, Manolo!"

"Fine." Moving her out of his lap, he got up from the sofa, walked across the parlor and opened the door. _"Buenos días,_ General…"

General Posada scuttled past him without a word and headed straight for Maria. "Ah, there you are, _mija!_ Just wanted to see how you were doing!"

"I'm doing well, Papa," she answered, smiling in the way she did when she had to. "And so's the baby."

He nodded. "Might I borrow Manolo for a few minutes? We have some matters to discuss."

"We do?"

"Of course you can," Maria said as she stood up. "I'm sure he would love to. Wouldn't you, Manolo?"

"Actually…"

"Come on, then!" the general said, scuttling back outside. "I haven't got all day!"

Manolo turned back to his wife. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"It's just for a few minutes, Manolo. I can take care of myself. Ixa's here if I need help with anything."

His eyes darted towards the door, then back to her. "…I'd still rather stay here."

"I know." She took his hands in hers. "Listen. If you two can get along, I'll let you do the reading when you get back. Deal?"

He smiled softly. "Deal."

Standing on her toes, Maria gave him a quick kiss. _"No demores, mi amor."_

"I won't."

He hurried outside to join the general, and she stood in the doorway watching him until he was gone.

* * *

Manolo strongly suspected that his father-in-law viewed his approval of the hasty marriage as a hungover man might view his intoxicated escapades the morning afterwards: it was done, it seemed like a fine idea at the time, and then you woke up to realize how foolish you had been. His warmth towards the newlyweds had cooled considerably in their first weeks together, and now that his child was carrying a child of her own, reality had well and truly set in. And what better way to handle his feelings than taking them out on the man responsible?

"You are treating them both well, I assume," General Posada said once the house was out of sight.

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, _señor,"_ Manolo answered at once.

The old man looked up at him. "I suppose I should thank you, boy."

"For what?"

"I always wanted a son!" he said, waving his hook around. "I suppose a grandson will do just as well. He'll be decorated by the army once I'm through with him!"

Manolo nearly stopped in his tracks. "Excuse me?"

"It's either your family's tradition or your wife's, and we've all seen how you feel about the first one."

"That seems like something Maria and I should discuss." As much as he was intimidated by the old man, Manolo would rather face his wrath than see his child forced down a path they were not meant to walk.

General Posada didn't seem to hear him. "Now that that's settled, what are you going to name him? Carlos? Luis? There's quite a number from my side of the family if you're interested. Which is your favorite so far?"

"Ofelia."

The general's nose crinkled. "You children and your odd names…"

Manolo smiled nervously. "That one's for a girl, actually. Just in case."

General Posada stared at him in disbelief before bursting into laughter. "What on earth would you want with a girl?"

They would love the baby with all their hearts no matter which it was, of course, but that didn't stop them from hoping. Out of all his dreams of who the child might be, the one which consistently returned to Manolo's head was that of a small girl with dark eyes and curls running through the halls of Casa de Sanchez. She was wise and pure of heart, and she rested against her parents as they all curled up on the sofa while the night crept by.

"I just…think it might be nice. Maria thinks so, too."

 _"Hmph._ Well, there's always Spain."

That was when Manolo saw it. The first and last thing he wished to encounter at that moment. In the opening of a nearby alleyway, someone had stuck out the head of a familiar staff and was waving it up and down.

"Excuse me a moment," he said, walking away before the general could respond. A distraction was a distraction, no matter who was making it.

By the time he reached the alleyway, the staff and its wielder had vanished. "Xibalba?" he whispered. "Is that you?"

Two shadows, one stout and one winged, fell across his path. "You have _quite_ a lot of explaining to do, boy."


	4. Chapter 4

Manolo wasn't sure which would be less pleasant to deal with, the general or the angry death god currently staring him down and pointing the head of a snake staff in his face. "Um…hello?"

Xibalba didn't move. He was scowling more than usual, and as Manolo looked up, he noticed several small puncture wounds on his face.

"How did you get those?" he asked, trying to push the staff out of the way.

"You tell me."

"Hey, hey, let's all be cool about this!" The glowing form of the Candle Maker poked his head out from behind Xibalba and awkwardly waved at Manolo. "Don't be too hard on the kid. He probably doesn't know what's up."

"Yes, yes, I know your little theory," Xibalba said, covering his face with a wing.

"C'mon, just try it out."

Xibalba huffed, then sighed in acquiescence. "My way first." He moved his staff away from Manolo and focused his attention on the young man. "I have some questions for you, and you'd better answer them truthfully."

"Alright…?"

"Have you noticed anything strange happening as of late? To _you,_ perhaps?"

"No."

"You haven't blacked out and woken up in any unusual places?"

"Does the music room count?"

"With blood on your hands?" Xibalba asked, gesturing to the wounds on his face.

Manolo gave him a look. "What, you think I did that? How? Last time I checked, I didn't have claws. Or any way to reach you down there and get back."

Xibalba narrowed his eyes. "Hold still." He leaned in close as his pupils turned forward and peered deep within Manolo, who held his breath and didn't move.

_He's not lying,_ the god thought. _He doesn't even want to kill me. So who was…?_

Then an image of something flashed before his eyes. Something that never was.

Manolo and Xibalba jerked and recoiled from each other, shouting in pain. "What was _that?"_ the young man said, a hand on his forehead.

The Candle Maker grimaced. "I tried to tell ya."

"Not now!" Xibalba snapped. "He's on his way!" He slammed his staff onto the ground, and the snake sprang to life and slipped out of his hand. "Go," he told it. "Find Maria Sanchez before he does. If you come across him, you know what to do."

Manolo staggered to his feet as the snake rushed off. "W-Where's it going?"

"To protect your wife," Xibalba said. "You're both in danger. We need to get you out of here before he shows up, hide you somewhere he won't look."

"Who's he?" Manolo demanded. "What's this all about?"

"We'll explain later," Xibalba answered. "Once we've figured it out ourselves. Look, we don't have time for this - "

The ground jolted, throwing them all off-balance. From a few streets away came the sound of shattering glass and people screaming.

"Okay," said the Candle Maker, "Plan B."

"More like Plan C," said Xibalba.

Manolo had already scrambled out of the alleyway and was tearing off down the street. _"Maria!"_

* * *

"You can hide from us no longer, creature called pig. You must come out."

Chuy glared at Ixa and retreated further under the bed. _"Bleh!"_

Ixa pulled her head back into the open. "He isn't going to come willingly," she said, looking up at Maria. "Shall I go find a net? That always works."

"Let me try." Kneeling down as best as she could, Maria whistled a few times while knocking on the floorboards. " _Chuuuyyy?_ It's time for your bath, Chuy!"

"Bleh."

"You can have a nice juicy apple when you're done…"

Then the ground shook, and every window in the Casa de Sanchez shattered with a burst.

The two women screamed and leapt onto the bed, trying to avoid the raining shards of glass. Both of Maria's hands instantly flew to her womb, shielding the baby. Chuy, who had begun to poke his face out from under the bed, squealed and pulled it back in.

Ixa drew her knees up to her chin and covered her head with her hands. "What happened? Is the world ending again?"

Maria clapped a hand over her mouth. "Quiet! Did you hear that…?"

They listened. For a moment, there was silence. Then from below came footsteps, loud and crunching and deliberate.

The blood drained from their faces. "What do we do?" Ixa whispered.

Maria was quiet for a few seconds, thinking. "We sneak out," she finally said. "Try to find Manolo and Papa. Find something to fight with if we run into trouble."

Ixa nodded. "Stay behind me."

Chuy trotted down the stairs first, growling. Ixa followed him with a pillowcase stuffed full of books. Maria came last, gripping the handle of a bullfighting sword. Approaching the landing of the staircase, they peered down below.

The parlor was in ruins. Glass shards and upturned furniture covered the floor, the pictures were shaken from the walls and the front door had been blown off its hinges. In the center of the mess was a blackened circle, from which a pair of sooty footprints wound their way back into the dining room. The footsteps were almost right beneath them, slow and echoing.

"Coast is clear," Maria whispered. "Let's make a break for…Chuy, no!"

The pig had already run down the rest of the stairs and was following the footprints into the next room, sniffing them as he went.

"I'll get him!" said Ixa as she started to descend the last flight of steps. "You go. Quickly!"

Maria paused, but nodded. She followed Ixa to the bottom of the stairs, and while the other woman slipped into the dining room, she darted across the parlor to the front door.

She was halfway across when she stepped on one of the footprints and suddenly stopped. _Wait a minute._ Kneeling down, she brushed a hand across the print and rubbed the dust between her fingers. It was smooth, fine and pitch black with tiny flakes of something green. _It doesn't look anything like what we've got around here._

The sound of crunching glass came from the dining room, followed by the hiss of escaping air.

"Maria!" Ixa shouted amidst coughing while Chuy squealed. "Help! Help…" Her voice trailed off and was followed by a soft thud.

"Ixa! Chuy!" Running forward, Maria opened the dining room door. Ixa lay still on the floor in a cloud of pale blue mist rising up from a small, broken vial. Chuy was next to her, dazedly spinning around until he too collapsed.

_I have to get out of here._ Backing away, Maria turned and was about to run for the door when a bony hand grabbed her by the wrist. She jerked out of the stranger's grasp and whirled around, raising her sword. Then she saw his face and froze.

"Did you miss me, Maria?"

She screamed and pointed the sword at his chest, only for it to fall out of her shaking hands. _This can't be happening…thiscan'tbehappening…_

He caught her as she fainted, nestling her in one arm. His other hand caressed her face, the sharpened fingers tracing delicate circles across her skin.

_"Mi amor,"_ he breathed, relishing the moment. He would have cried if he still could. "There's no need to be afraid. We'll be safe soon."

He leaned down and kissed her, forcing her lips apart as his hands began to wander. _Not here,_ he thought, pulling away. _Plenty of time for that later._

"Maria!" A terrified voice came floating in from the street, backed by the quick approach of running footsteps.

_Oh no you don't._ Pulling the last vial of gold dust from his bandolier, he threw it to the ground. _Take us home._

* * *

Manolo raced up to the doorway and was nearly blown back into the street by a gust of wind that blew out from the center of the parlor. Through the cloud of hazy black dust, he could make out a swirling vortex of gold. In the center of it stood a dark, blurry figure with glowing green eyes, and slumped in his arms was Maria.

_"No!"_ he screamed as they vanished. The world around him seemed to fade away as he ran forward. Flinging out his arms, he touched the vortex just as it began to disappear.

There was the sound of a thunderclap. He was hurtling through nothing in every direction, being pulled every way at once. He screamed in pain and fear.

And then there was nothing but light.


	5. Chapter 5

The world came back into focus piece by piece, line by line. The blinding white light faded into a clear, pale blue sky.

Manolo blinked and groaned, his joints still screaming from the force of…whatever had just happened. He closed his eyes, hoping it would calm the spinning in his head. A cool breeze brushed across his face, and he thought he heard birds chirping. It was as though he was outside. _Did it blow up the house?_

Opening his eyes, he pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around. He was on the floor of his parlor, or at least what left of it. The floorboards were charred and ripped up, pieces of broken furniture lay scattered everywhere and most of the walls had been reduced to jagged piles of rubble. Casa de Sanchez was a ruin.

Then Manolo's eyes drifted to the next one. And the next. And the next.

He staggered to his feet, gaping in horror at what he was seeing. Every building in San Angel had been destroyed. Rubble was strewn through the streets, and he thought he saw decomposing hands sticking out from beneath some of them. The people had all vanished. Every way he turned, every way he looked and listened, the town was as cold and silent as death.

_What happened here?_

* * *

"Maybe he's in the future," Sanjay suggested. "Maybe a Terminator's out to get him now!"

"Or maybe," Xibalba said, "it was a certain bandit king."

The children went quiet, and their eyes grew wide with realization.

"Does it really matter?" Goth Boy said. "That creepy guy still has Maria! Manolo's gotta go save her!"

"Oh, you'll see why it matters. Back in the San Angel that Manolo knew, his friends had seen the strange thing which had happened. They came running to help, and so did the Candle Maker and I."

* * *

A broad figure ran up to the doorway, coughing from the dust. "Manny?" he called out. "Are you guys okay? What the heck was _that?"_

In the center of the parlor was another charred circle, all that remained of the vortex. Joaquin gasped when he saw it. "Manolo! Maria!"

The door to the dining room slowly opened. Out staggered Ixa, still dizzy, with Chuy at her heels. "Joaquin…?"

He was instantly at her side, propping her up and helping her to a chair. "What happened?"

"Someone was in the house, a-and we were trying to get away…I stepped on something, and then…I don't know what then! Where's Maria?"

An old man with a large nose poked his head through the doorway, followed by a portly, dark-skinned man. "Wonderful," the former said. _"Just_ wonderful."

"Sooo…Plan D?"

Joaquin recognized their voices. "Xibalba? Candle Maker? Guys, what's going on?"

 _"Out of my way!"_ General Posada shoved the two gods aside as he barged into the room. "Where is my daughter? What has been done with her?"

"There's no time to explain," Xibalba said. "At least not here."

He snapped his fingers. The room went blurry, fading away and forming into another.

The rest of the group started and looked around. They were at the end of a long, dark hallway lined with bookshelves, in front of a roaring fire surrounded by sofas.

"La Muerte!" Xibalba shouted. "Are you here?"

She appeared in a flash of light and marigolds. "Is everything alright?"

"Get the Level 5 spell book."

Her pale face grew even paler. Nodding quickly, she vanished again.

"You!" the general shrieked, turning on Xibalba. "This is _your_ doing, isn't it?"

The god said nothing, but morphed back into his true form, as did the Candle Maker.

General Posada's eyes grew wide as he laughed nervously. "Oh. Um… _hola."_

"If you want to see your daughter and son-in-law again," Xibalba told him, "you'll do as I say. This is a grave matter."

La Muerte reappeared, holding a large, thick leather-bound book. "Did you find Manolo?"

"He got away," her husband answered. "And he's got Maria."

The mortals looked up at him, surprised and questioning. "But Manolo wasn't there, was he not?" Ixa asked.

"Not _our_ Manolo."

* * *

She shifted, beginning to emerge from her fitful sleep. "Manolo…Manolo, help…"

"You're safe."

For a moment, the familiar voice started to lull Maria's fears. Then she paused, running it back again in her mind. It was Manolo's voice, and yet it wasn't. It was flatter, colder, a statement rather than a reassurance.

Against her better judgement, she opened her eyes.

She was lying on a bed - but not her bed. One with dark, dusty sheets and a canopy of cobwebs. Her blood ran colder as she looked around, taking in the gray bricks of the chilly, windowless room she was in. There was no other furniture, only a granite door that looked too heavy to move.

Maria shivered as she wrapped her arms around herself. "Manolo…?"

"I'm right here, Maria."

Her eyes flew to the end of the bed, and she screamed again.

Leaning against the bedpost, watching her intently, was a blackened, dusty skeleton in the form of Manolo. It was covered in glowing green markings, the same shade as the lights in its eye sockets. He had shed his jacket and necktie, replacing them with a ragged swords were strapped to his fingers were sharpened like claws, and they clicked as he drummed them against the wood. He wore a crooked attempt at a smile as he stared at her. The glint in his eyes was victorious, possessive, anticipatory.

"You're awake," he chirped, seemingly oblivious to her growing terror. "It's been a few hours."

She scrambled backwards, slamming into the headboard. "Where am I? What have you done to my husband?"

"I haven't done a thing to him." He sat on the side of the bed, a little too close to her for comfort. "You don't need to worry about him anymore. You're home now, Maria. Our home."

"Where's Manolo?"

 _"I'm_ Manolo," he said, a twinge of annoyance in his voice. "I'm the _real_ Manolo." He began to move closer and reach for her hand. "I crossed worlds to find you again, _mi amor._ I made all of this for you. I kept my promise. Didn't I say I'd never stop loving you?"

Maria slapped his hand away, jumped off the bed and started to back towards the door. "Send me back."

He looked confused. "You don't like it."

 _"Send me back!"_ she shouted.

He began to come after her, taking slow steps. "Why would I do that? You just got here."

"You're not Manolo," she said, her voice beginning to tremble. "I-I've never even seen you before! Manolo's _alive._ He's alive and…and he'd…"

She backed into the wall. The specter placed a hand on either side of her, boxing her in. "Forget about him," he said, colder than before. "You don't need him. He didn't deserve you."

"…And you think you do?"

"I've _suffered,_ Maria. I've nearly lost my mind down here thinking I'd never see you again. Isn't that enough?"

"He's suffered, too."

"I don't care and neither should you!"

Without warning, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. It was rough and cold, colder than anything Maria had ever felt. She screamed into it, flailing and trying to push him away, but he pinned her arms to the wall. It felt like an eternity before he pulled away.

"You have me now," he said, smiling again. "That's how it's supposed to be."

She was trembling with fear and rage. "Get away from me."

"But it's not right just yet," he said, looking her over and not seeming to hear her words. He reached into his bandolier and pulled out a small vial of liquid. It was red, and it glowed and pulsed.

Maria stiffened when she saw it. "What's that?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"It's the last step," he said. "It's you and me together, forever. Just like we wanted."

"I'm not drinking that."

"You have to! Or else you'll…you'll…" He trailed off as his gaze drifted downwards. "…What's that?"

She looked down. At the sight of the poison, she had unconsciously wrapped her hands around the baby.

Reaching out, he tapped her stomach. The child squirmed inside her, as thought it was as frightened as she was. When he looked up at her again, his face had changed. It was disbelieving, repulsed, almost accusatory.

"How long has that been there?" he asked, backing away.

"S-Six months," she stammered. Only in her darkest nightmares had she seen Manolo look at their child this way. _Because this isn't Manolo. He just thinks he is._

"Who did this to you?" he snapped. "Joaquin? Some bandit?"

"No one did anything to me!" she snapped back. "It's _his."_

"It's _wrong."_ He began to pace the floor, growing more agitated. "It's not supposed to be like this. It's supposed to be just us…"

Maria sank to the floor, her mind racing as she cradled the baby. _I need to stop him. Before he hurts you._ The next words from her mouth came without thought. "Listen!"

He turned around. _"What?"_

She took a breath, steeling herself. "I…I have an idea."

He didn't answer, but he didn't tell her to stop, either.

"I only have three more months to go," she continued. "That's not long. Please, just…just let me live until it's born."

"And what then?"

"Send it back to him. He'll care for it, and you'll never have to see it again. And then…" She gulped. "…then I'll stay with you. Like you want."

His face began to brighten once more. "Really? You mean it?"

She nodded, refusing to look at him.

The creature let out a breath and seemed to relax. "Good…good." He took her by the arms, gently pulled her to her feet and embraced her. "I'll do my best for you, _mi esposa._ I promise."

She stood limply in his arms. "I'm not your wife."

"Not yet." He pulled away from her, then opened the door and slipped out of the room. It shut behind him, locking.

As soon as he was gone, Maria crumbled back to the floor and cried until there were no more tears left. It might have been hours, and it probably was.

When her vision finally cleared, she took a breath and began to scan the room once more. "You're not staying here," she whispered, her hands on the baby. "And you're not going back alone."


	6. Chapter 6

Goth Boy's jaw dropped, and Sanjay had to push it back up. "Smaller reaction than I was expecting out of you," Xibalba remarked at the sight.

The boy blinked rapidly, struggling to find his voice once more. "That's...that's... _what is that thing?_ _ **How**_ _is it?"_

"It's Manolo," said Xibalba. "Somewhere _very_ deep down, perhaps. And not nearly as lucky."

"No way!" Sasha shouted, breaking out of her frightened trance. "He can't be Manolo! He's _mean!"_

"Yeah!" Jane added. "And he better not hurt Maria's baby!"

"We'll deal with that as it comes."

"You mean he's _gonna?"_ the children all shrieked.

"Perhaps I should take over for a while, Balby," said La Muerte, shooting a dark look at her husband.

"Very well, dear..."

"Calm down, _niños,"_ the goddess said to the trembling group as they scooted towards her. "This seems like a very unhappy story, I know. But all was not lost for Maria. In fact, her captor's plans were already beginning to unravel..."

* * *

Blades of grass were growing from the patches of dirt where cobblestones now uprooted had once been. All that remained of the town gate were two discolored stone stumps. The boards of the the bridge to the mainland were cracked and beginning to rot. On a few them sat the occasional crushed and melted candle, remnants of a day that had somehow gone horribly wrong in more ways than one.

Manolo wasn't sure what was carrying him towards the Proposal Tree. A search for an answer, perhaps. A need to escape the unexplainable hell he had fallen into on the mainland, more likely. The large old tree was the only thing looking relatively normal at the moment, even with its broken branches and charred trunk. He kept his eyes cast towards the ground as he walked, hoping to block out the sights around him.

"This isn't real," he kept whispering to himself in vain. "It can't be."

As he stepped off the bridge and approached the tree, he caught sight of something lying at its base. Several somethings, as a matter of fact, clustered around a small piece of paper nailed to the bark. With slow, staggering steps, he came closer to it. A part of him already knew what he was going to see, and yet his blood still ran cold when it sat before him.

The piece of paper was a picture of him, an old bullfighting poster now yellowed and torn from exposure. Beneath it were melted candles and dying marigolds, and a little, broken red guitar. He had found the shrine once before, after his father had left, and he had quietly removed it. _Why is it still here? Did someone put it back up?_

His mind answered itself. _There was no one left to take it down. Not here._

Manolo's breathing turned quick and ragged as he collapsed against the tree with his face in his hands, trying to process his frantic thoughts as they raced about. "W-We beat Chakal," he finally said, needing to hear the words out loud. "None of us were forgotten. I wasn't. I wasn't..."

He almost didn't notice how he was slowly leaning backwards. How the trunk of the tree was sinking inwards.

Manolo jumped away with a scream as a split appeared in the trunk and began to grow, forming a dark hole that spanned the width of the tree and dropped down into shadow. A malevolent hissing rose from its depths, and a familiar, scaly purple head poked out from the darkness and bared its fangs. Manolo staggered backwards and turned to run, only for the snake to lunge out and grab him by the leg of his pants. He tripped and fell, trying to scramble away from the creature.

One end wrapped itself tightly around his leg. The other pulled him screaming back towards the tree, through the hole and into nothingness.

* * *

It was the oldest book any of them had ever laid eyes on. The covers were cracked and wrinkled, almost on the verge of turning to dust. Elaborate drawings of gods and animals in blue and gold ink coated the ancient leather. The pages were no better: yellowed and brittle, they were filled with hundreds of tiny, intricate glyphs that were packed around each other in no discernible order, as though each was trying to force out the one next to them.

"Alright," said the Candle Maker as he spread the tome out before the rest of the group and began to flip through the pages. "Let's see what we...woah!" He abruptly stopped as one of the pages broke off in his hand. "Eh, we can fix that later. Got work to do."

"So this thing," Joaquin said. "Is it like the Book of Life?"

"Nuh-uh. This little baby's way older. Not sure how old, really. The first gods made it, I know that much. They wrote down everything they knew 'bout all the weird stuff in the world, magic an' things like that, so we could 'em if we ever had to. This book right here, this one's for the real bad messes. Mostly what do if there's another apocalypse..."

"Would you _get on with it?"_ General Posada snapped. "I don't have time for this!"

Xibalba glared at him. "You're going to _make_ time, mortal."

"Here it is!" the Candle Maker said, pointing triumphantly to a page which looked no different than the rest of them.

Ixa looked at it, muttering words under her breath as her eyes ran across the glyphs. "Branch worlds?"

The god nodded. "I think so."

"I thought they were but stories."

"None of us have actually seen proof of one," the Candle Maker continued. "Not until today."

Chuy looked down at the page, then up at him. "Bleh?"

"Okay, it's like this. Imagine you're walking down a road and you get to a fork. Y'all take the path on the left. No big deal, right?"

"Now," said Xibalba, "imagine that when you walked left, another version of you went right." He snapped his fingers. "Congrats. You're now the proud creator of a whole new timeline. That's what a branch world is: a new universe born from the choice you didn't take."

"Okay, but that still doesn't explain why there's a psychopath version of my best friend running around trying to kidnap his own wife."

"Some choices change more than others," La Muerte said. "Manolo must have made such a choice once. One that saved him in this world and doomed him in the other."

Xibalba's eyes flickered with realization. "The wager. He lost the wager."

"What are you talking about now?" General Posada asked.

"You two remember, don't you?" Xibalba said to the other gods. "I only thought his greatest fear was bullfighting. That was why the song worked."

La Muerte nodded, realizing where he was going. "And the other him tried killing it, you think?"

"He was reaching for that sword."

"Wait, he told me about this!" Joaquin said. "If he'd failed, then he would have ended up in the Land of the Forgotten, right?"

Xibalba nodded. "Seems the one that came after me did, anyway."

The general looked miffed. "The boy didn't tell me about any of that."

"I can't imagine why..."

"But I thought the Forgotten just...stood around or something," Joaquin continued.

"Not all of them." The god's gaze drifted off, as though reliving an unpleasant memory. "Some go mad. Mad and desperate enough to trade away their humanity if they think it will help them escape. Or get back what they lost."

"Maria? He wanted Maria, so he came after the one from this world?"

"And probably has her stowed away in his own world by now. Trying to brighten up the place."

"This isn't funny, Xibalba! W-We gotta get over there and rescue her! Manny's stuck there, too, isn't he? He doesn't know about any of this. We have to find him."

"Good luck with all that."

"If he came to our world," Ixa said, "could we not travel to his?"

"I have no idea how he managed it. It's supposed to be impossible. Right, Candle Maker?"

"Eh, not quite." He was studying the pages more closely. "Says here that if y'all make a spell that moves you between worlds..."

"That's a thing? Really?"

"...you can make one that gets you from one branch to another. Takes a whole lotta energy, though. The energy of a soul."

"Where would he get _that?"_ Xibalba demanded. "And more importantly, where would _we?"_

The other god smiled. "I make the candles, remember? I could spare a little wax. It'd be a bumpy ride, but it'd get us there and back."

"I'll go," Joaquin said, standing up. "They're my friends."

"I want to help," Ixa added.

"Bleh!"

"You three aren't going alone," General Posada told them. "You'll need someone to lead you."

"Right! I got this, guys!" the Candle Maker chirped.

La Muerte turned to her husband, who was looking steadily more sullen. "And what about you, Balby?"

"Um, well...someone should stay behind and make sure there's no more trouble, don't you think?"

"Then that's what I'll do." Her blue eyes were staring into him, speaking volumes more than a scolding about whose fault this technically was ever could.

Sighing, he stood up. "Why is it," he said, "that whenever I get involved with you mortals, we keep pushing the boundaries of terrible ideas?"


	7. Chapter 7

"And so, preparations for the great quest began," La Muerte continued. "The quest to cross worlds and save Manolo and Maria from the terrible fate which threatened to claim them both."

"How come you didn't want to help?" Goth Boy said, scowling up at Xibalba.

"Of course I did," the god answered. "But it wasn't going to be as easy as just flitting over there and back. We had no idea what we were dealing with! There's all sorts of variables to consider with this kind of thing, you know: what other things had changed, whether the other versions of us had gotten involved, whether or not they were even alive. And don't get me started on what the other Manolo might do if we pushed back at him. For all we knew, our boy was already splattered across a wall somewhere."

"Where _was_ Manolo?" Joao asked. "After your snake got him, I mean. What the heck was your snake doing up there, anyway?"

"Like I said," Xibalba told him. _"Variables."_

* * *

His eyes were still open, he was certain of that. And yet the world around him was nothing but darkness. He was falling slowly but steadily, tumbling through a void where the only things his senses could pick up were his own flailing limbs and frantic breathing. He twisted his body around, trying to see down, up, left, right, _anything._ But there was no direction, only the sensation of tumbling that he was beginning to fear would never end -

_THUD._

The ground came out of nowhere, slamming into Manolo with a force that nearly sent him flying back up again. He landed on his back, gasping for breath and digging his fingers into the earth. There was dirt in his hands, and cool, brittle grass. He let his eyes drift closed as he lay where he was, waiting for the pain in the back of his head to die down. The hints of a distant bright light shone through his eyelids, and the world was still silent. For a few seconds, at least.

Manolo's eyes snapped as a forked tongue licked his ear. He sat up in a flash of movement, trying to grasp the snake with both hands. It effortlessly slithered out of his way, hissing at him before darting off. He scrambled to his feet, ready to follow it, but when he looked where it had gone, he gasped and shielded his eyes from the sudden, blinding color.

He was standing on a small hill that was suddenly very familiar, and before him stood the Land of the Remembered in all its gleaming glory. And yet...yet it didn't. Something was off. The colors were not the warm and welcoming hues he had seen when he had first looked upon the city. Instead they were unnaturally bright, almost artificial and garish. It was as though someone had forced them upon the scene.

_Maybe it's just different because I'm alive,_ he thought. But that wasn't the only thing. There were no balloons, no confetti floating through the air, no spirits walking through the streets. In fact, there was almost nothing to be seen or heard. Only a stillness that made the blood freeze in his veins.

Forcing his legs to move, he began walking down the hill towards the buildings. _I have to find La Muerte._

The silence was even more unsettling up close. Manolo picked up his pace until he was running down the empty road, turning every which way to look at the buildings. The castle wasn't far off, if he remembered correctly.

"Hello?" he called out "Can anyone help me? I'm looking for someone!"

Shutters on windows opened ever so slightly, and small, frightened faces of skeletons peered out. They gasped and retreated back inside when they saw him, sometimes after shooting a frightened glance further down the road. The closer he got the palace, the more often they looked in its direction.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he walked down the final stretch of road to his destination. "Why would you be afraid of..."

Then he looked ahead, and he stopped in his tracks as his mouth dropped open.

A tall iron fence surrounded La Muerte's castle. The warm red of the tree-shaped building was now a sickly green, and its branches were dripping with tar.

_Well, I guess that sort of explains it._

Around the base of the castle, a group of half a dozen metallic figures were slowly, methodically marching back and forth. Manolo crept closer, squinting to see them. They were suits of conquistador armor, held together around nothing by some invisible force that propelled them about. Beneath the helmets were stern, unmoving faces carved into thin sheets of iron. Manolo's eyes drifted past them, towards the bars of the gate. They seemed wide enough to slip through. _If I time it right, maybe I can get past them -_

"There he is! Seize him!" One of the guards had turned around and was pointing at him, cold and unreal eyes staring straight into his.

Manolo jumped back, then turned and ran. For a moment, the guards did not chase him. They detached their limbs, letting themselves float apart until they were nothing more than a mass of armor pieces. Then they went after their prey, becoming a gray blur as they flew down the road.

One helmet struck Manolo in the back of his head. He stumbled and fell, crying out in pain. The armor floated down around him, forming a circle and reassembling themselves into their proper forms. Two of them grabbed Manolo by the arms and pulled him to his feet.

"Take him inside," one of them said to the others. "The king is to decide what shall be done with him."

* * *

They dragged him up the castle steps, down the entryway and up into the dining hall. Flinging the doors open, they tossed him inside and prodded at him to stand when he collapsed to his knees.

"Your serpent brought him, Majesty," a guard said. "Just as you said."

"Leave us. Be ready if I call."

Bowing, the guards retreated and shut the doors behind them.

Manolo looked at his surroundings, feeling his skin crawl as he did so. The long banquet table was still there, but all of the food was now rotting and covered in a hazy, greenish-gray mold. His gaze traveled down the length of the room and then looked up, where two figures sat at the other end of the table. A tall, dark winged specter sipped a cup of wine, while a sugar-skinned lady in a red dress sat with folded hands, a bowed head and weary eyes.

"You know why I wanted this realm in the first place?" Xibalba said, seemingly to his drink. "The spirits were actually happy. Always celebrating. But now that _I'm_ here, of course, it seems they do everything _except_ that." He was silent for a moment, then growled and slammed his cup onto the table. _"Why don't they?"_

Manolo turned to the other figure. "La Muerte, what's going on?"

Xibalba stood, spreading out his wings. "You'll speak to me or to no one at all, boy. This is my land now, not hers."

"What have you done, Xibalba?"

"I should be asking you that."

"What is this place?" Manolo continued. "Where have you sent us?"

"My wife and I are exactly where we're supposed to be. _You,_ on the other hand, are a few levels too high." He began to walk across the table towards Manolo. "How did you manage it? Did you do something to the Book? Write yourself back to life? Or was it some kind of spell? Did you help him, La Muerte? Undo it, or so help me, I'll..."

Manolo shrank back, his resolve beginning to shake. _This isn't Xibalba. He'd never speak to her like that._

"Wait," he said, his voice trembling a bit. "I-I think there's been a misunderstanding."

The other Xibalba swerved back around to look at him, the dark skulls in his eyes facing forward. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know what's going on, sir. But I'm not who you think I am. I don't mean any harm. I'm just trying to find someone of mine, someone who's in trouble. Maria Sanchez...?"

"Maria Posada, you mean."

"Well, yes, sort of."

"There's no 'sort of' about it. She was never a Sanchez."

"She _is._ She's my wife. Look, we're both from - "

"Enough of this, boy! You know what happened that day as well as I do!"

"I have _no idea_ what you're talking about - "

Then his mind burned.

* * *

_He looked as his skeletal reflection in the blade, then reached for it anyway. When the giant bull charged him one last time, he threw the sword at the space between its eyes. It bounced off the bone without a scratch, and one toss of the creature's horns sent him flying across the arena._

_**"Manolo Sanchez,"** _ _the god's voice said with a hint of relish in it,_ _**"you have failed the challenge I set out for you, and so you shall be forgotten."** _

_**"I was about to kill it!"** _ _he shouted back, struggling to stand._ _**"You tricked me! La Muerte, you can't let him do this! Someone help me, please! Anyone!"** _

_But the bull's hoof was already descending on his fragile form, crushing him down into darkness and cold. He convulsed as his bones turned dark and ashy, the marking on his face and hands beginning to glow a pale green._

_When the pain subsided, he found himself lying amidst ash and snow in a dark cavern. Moans and wails were slowly but surely filling the air around him. As he stood, new souls were appearing in flashes of green one by one. He saw his family, the soldiers, Father Domingo and the nuns, General Posada and Joaquin._

_**"Where are we?"** _ _the new arrivals asked, looking around in a daze._ _**"Where is Chakal?"** _

_One more flash of green, one last forgotten soul. She was still holding a sword, and it slipped from her slender, bony fingers as her eyes fell on him._ _**"Manolo!"** _

_**"Maria?"** _

_She hurried towards him, wincing as she walked, and stumbled into his arms._ _**"I'm...I'm so sorry..."** _

_For one blessed moment, their lips finally met. Then hers disintegrated and crumbled away._

_**"No!"** _ _he shouted as he embraced her, trying in vain to keep her together._ _**"Please don't leave me again!"** _

_She was already gone, and he was holding two piles of dark dust in his trembling hands. There was nothing left to do but scream and weep like a lost child._

* * *

Miles below, in the depths of the abandoned castle, the other Manolo gasped and felt tears brim in his eyes as the memories flashed before them. _He followed us. He's here._ No one else could have pulled the dark pictures of the past back to light.

He looked behind him, back towards the room where she was. _If I get rid of him, she'll have no reason to leave me._

His fingers tightened around the vial of black dust around his neck one last time before he slipped it back beneath his shirt. Then he grabbed a vial of gold dust with one hand and a sword with the other.


	8. Chapter 8

Manolo was pulled away from the vision with a cry, nearly toppling over as he furiously shook his head to dispel the images. "That didn't happen!" he said. "I-I _know_ it didn't!"

The other Xibalba advanced on him again, wings spread and teeth bared. "Enough of that nonsense, boy. I'll have none of this story of yours. Now tell me how you brought yourself back!"

"It's not a story! I'm not that Manolo. My Maria's in danger, we have to find her - "

"If you _won't_ tell me," the god snarled, "I'll wring it out of you myself and then fling you back where you belong!"

_"Please,_ it's not what you - "

_CRACK!_

A burst of light flashed into existence in the middle of the room and exploded just as quickly, like a star that was born and died in one second. Warm air shot out in all directions, sending Manolo and the two gods skidding across the room as they shielded their eyes from the sudden glare. The light vanished just as quickly as it had come, and in its place stood six figures of various sizes who all stumbled as they looked around, blinking rapidly.

"Did it work?" Ixa asked, fumbling with the large stick she was clutching in her hands.

"I'll say it did," General Posada muttered, doubled over and wincing. "I swear I left a _riñón_ back there…"

"You'll live," Xibalba said, rolling his eyes.

"Stop it!" Joaquin snapped at them both, drawing a sword as soon as he could properly stand once again. "We have to find him."

_"Joaquin?"_

He whirled around, his eyes lighting up at his friend's voice. "Manny!" He made a beeline for the other young man, who could only stand wide-eyed and stock still as he was roughly embraced. "Ohmygosh, are you okay? Tell me you're okay! I mean, don't tell me that if you're really not okay. Look, just don't freak out. We're gonna find Maria and get out of here, alright?"

_"Where's here?"_

"Looks like the dining hall," Xibalba said as he straightened himself out and began to look around. "Not too bad a landing spot, actually. We can work with - "

His words stopped in his throat, ending in a frightened squeak as his pupils shrank and his wings sprang out like a shield. The others followed his gaze and gasped as they saw the other Xibalba clamber back to his feet. When he saw them, he recoiled before sharpening his teeth and glowering.

"Ah…maybe he's cool," the Candle Maker half-suggested. "Hey, y'all…"

"Who is this _imposter?"_ the other Xibalba shouted, stalking towards his doppelganger.

"Okay, maybe not."

Xibalba shrank under the glare of his own image, tittering nervously. "To be fair, I'd probably say the same thing. But just stay calm and _maybe_ there won't be any more problems - "

The walls of the palace suddenly shook, and a voice thundered through the halls. _"Where is he?"_

The Candle Maker jumped and looked at Manolo. "Woah. Y'all got lungs on you, kid."

"T-That wasn't me!"

"Is it the other him?" Joaquin asked, blanching.

"The _what?"_

"Guards!" the other Xibalba shouted, snapping his fingers. The doors flew open, revealing dozens of the walking suits of armor. "Half of you find and dispose of that boy. And the rest," he added, pointing to the newcomers, "can dispose of _these."_

"…Bleh?"

* * *

Screams filled the air as furniture went flying across the room, out the windows, at the attackers and the attacked. The four humans desperately hacked and slashed at the guards with the weapons they had brought, denting and severing the pieces of armor. Chuy bit at them, pulling their legs off. Xibalba and the Candle Maker sent them hurtling backwards and shattering against the walls with a wave of their hands. The suits of armor fell apart, only to put themselves back together and surge forward with new anger. They were joined by even more, and the intruders were forced back together as the guards closed in on them.

The mortals were thrown to the floor and pinned down, their own weapons held at their necks. The two gods tried to punch and swat aside the guards who jumped at them, even as the weight of the clinging armor threatened to pull them down. "Aw, come on!" the Candle Maker shouted over the noise. "There's gotta be an off switch for these guys!"

The other Xibalba leaned against a wall as he watched them struggling, one eyebrow raised in disdain and bemusement. "I made them," he said. "Only I know the spell to call them off."

"Do you?"

They all turned. The other La Muerte was standing up, a fire rekindling in her eyes as she muttered indecipherable words under her breath. The suits of armor stiffened and then collapsed, their pieces rusting over in an instant as the prisoner stood back up on shaking legs.

"You think I haven't been watching all you've done?' the goddess continued, glaring at her husband. "That I was going to _sit there_ and let you take more innocent lives?"

The other Xibalba came storming towards her, growling. "I'll show you what life you should be worried about…!"

In a blur of black and green, Xibalba rushed in front of him and shoved him backwards. "You lay a hand on her," he snarled, "and there won't even be _dust_ left for people to remember you by."

The other god hurled himself at him with a screech of fury. The rest of the room recoiled as they fought, turning into a ball of flailing limbs and flapping wings. The quiet opening of the door, as well as the new arrival, went unnoticed.

Xibalba - or was it the other one? - finally ended up on top, his hands latched around his opponent's neck and squeezing tightly. "You are going to - "

He suddenly screamed and fell onto his side, his hands flying up to cover his face. When he shakily removed them, the others could see streams of a thick red liquid trickling down his face. They were beginning to sizzle, and so was the bone it touched.

Xibalba doubled over, screaming in pain as his face slowly dissolved. His glowing markings widened and deepened into crooked channels, his eyes bugged out and melted, his voice warped and died out as his jaw and tongue rotted away. His skull caved in with a prolonged squishing noise and shriveled up until it was nothing more than a tiny, charred bulb. The convulsing body, now headless, jerked one last time before going limp and collapsing forward.

The other Manolo stepped on the remains of the head, smirking as it crunched beneath his foot. "So," he said, looking at the others' terrified faces, "who's next?" A flash of movement in the corner caught his eye. "How about _you,_ General?"

Before the old man could react, he found himself slammed into the wall by a clawed hand and the tip of a sword touching his neck. The other Manolo turned the blade around in his hand, searching for just the right angle to strike with. "You know," he said, "seeing you turn to dust was one of the happiest sights of my life."

"Get away from him!"

The specter turned at the sound of his own voice. Manolo was standing behind him, a sword from Joaquin in his hand, and he flinched at the green eyelights that coldly glared out at him from the face that was and wasn't his. "I-I said get away from him."

_"You,"_ the other Manolo hissed, a second before shoving General Posada aside and swinging his sword through the air. "You're not welcome here."

Manolo met his blow with one of his own. "Who are you?"

"Go back to your own world. Leave us. Or would your rather die?"

"Y-You shouldn't exist…"

_"You_ shouldn't exist!" the other Manolo shouted, taking a stab at him and barely missing. "I was real before you were! What makes _you_ so special? What makes you think you can just take what was stolen from _me?"_

Manolo's eyes widened. "You're…you're the one I saw through in that vision. You're the one who took Maria."

"I took her _back."_

Manolo took a swing of his own and put all his strength into it. "Tell me where she is!"

The skeleton's blade clashed against his, its owner buckling under the weight. "You'll never see her again," said the other Manolo. "She promised to stay with me."

"She lied to you, then." He stumbled backward as the other Manolo made a pass at his legs.

"You don't deserve her!" he shouted. "You put that…that _thing_ in her, didn't you?"

Manolo froze, then his eyes narrowed as his grip on the sword tightened. "Don't you dare go near them. Do you hear me? If you don't let my wife go - "

_"She's mine!"_

He moved too quickly to be blocked, and Manolo cried out as the blade jabbed him in the arm. His own sword slipped from his fingers as he stumbled backwards. The other Manolo shoved him to the floor and pinned him there with a foot on his chest.

Manolo trembled, staring up with wide eyes. "Please…"

"They never listened when I begged. Why should I?" The other Manolo was about to drive the sword into his neck when he suddenly winced. Something was hovering at the back of his mind, pushing, asking to be let in. _If he can look into me, perhaps I can look into him._ The idea was no sooner had than fulfilled, as the emotions slipped through a crack in his defenses before he could stop them.

He gasped and jumped away from Manolo as the other man's fear flowed into him: overwhelming, desperate, instinctive…but not for himself. _Please don't hurt Maria,_ he thought as though knowing he could be heard. _Please don't hurt her, and please, **please** don't hurt the baby…_

He could not kill him. Not while they were like this. There would be guilt, and more importantly, Maria would sense it on him.

Balling his hands into fists, he pushed the voice back and approached Manolo once more. "I will not let you live. Not as long as you seek her." Reaching down, he ripped off a swath of Manolo's jacket, wiped it in the blood from his arm and then, in a brutal flash of movement, kicked him in the head. Manolo flopped over, yelling as tears brimmed in his eyes, and then went limp.

The rest of the group came rushing towards them, but the other Manolo had already pulled out a vial of gold dust and thrown in on the floor. They shouted and shielded their eyes from the light as the world around him faded away, turning back to the murky grays of the castle.

He looked down at the piece of mangled, bloody cloth in his hand. _She'll stay. Once she sees this, she'll stay._


	9. Chapter 9

Sasha peered out from behind a sofa cushion. "Did the nice Manolo die?" she asked Xibalba, her eyes wide and glassy. "Did…did _you_ die?"

Xibalba stared at her with narrowed eyes and raised brows. "Well, _gosh,_ my dear, I really don't know."

"They lived, _niños,"_ said La Muerte, rolling her eyes in her husband's direction. "It was a close call, almost too close. But they lived."

"So then what happened?" Sanjay asked.

"Duh!" said the goth boy. "They went to go find the evil Manolo and kick his butt! Right?"

The goddess smiled sadly. "Not quite. There was still much that Manolo and his friends had to do. Picking themselves up after what had just happened was only the first."

* * *

"Manny…Manny, can you hear me…!"

Manolo groaned as he rolled over, his eyes barely cracking open. Through his hazy, flickering vision, he could see a figure kneeling over him, their face cast into shadow by golden light.

Smiling weakly, he reached up and tried to touch the figure's face. For a moment, he imagined himself home with his wife, the two of them lying safe in bed, his terrible nightmare dispelled by the sight of her smile. "Maria…"

A callused hand grabbed his outstretched arm by the wrist. As his eyes adjusted to the light and color, he saw Joaquin slowly shaking his head. "Not yet, brother. You gotta get up."

Manolo's face fell as he blinked and looked around. Here were the cold tiles and the colorful, mural-covered walls of La Muerte's dining hall. There were his friends and the rusting pieces of armor. There, almost out of eyesight, were the remains of the other Xibalba. Shuddering, he let his eyes drift closed again.

"Oh no you don't." Slipping an arm underneath his friend, Joaquin lifted him up and pulled him to his feet. "How's your head? Can you stand?"

Manolo slumped against him, digging his shaking fingers into the fabric of his shirt as he gasped back frightened tears. "W-What's going on…?"

"A fine question," said the other La Muerte as she gave Xibalba and the Candle Maker a wary stare.

Xibalba sighed. "We might as well pull up chairs, then. We've got to clean this place up anyway."

It didn't take long for them to sit Manolo down and tell him what they knew: where they were, who the other him was, how he had come into being. The young man said nothing as they spoke. He sat cross-legged, his hands together as he pressed them to his mouth, his eyes shut as he took it all in.

"So then we followed you over," Xibalba finished. "You can see how well _that's_ gone so far."

Manolo was silent for another moment, his brows furrowed. "Where is he now?" he finally asked.

"In the Land of the Forgotten, I suspect," said the other La Muerte. "He took the castle after the Xibalba here abandoned it."

"Is that where he's keeping Maria?"

"Almost certainly."

Standing, Manolo turned his back on the others and slowly took a few steps away. "Why is he doing this?"

"Because he's angry," Xibalba answered. "Or maybe the same reason you had to make that choice in the first place."

"…So this is my fault, then?"

"Yes."

Manolo stayed where he was, but everyone else gaped as their heads whipped around to stare at General Posada. "Hey!" said the Candle Maker. "He didn't know what was gonna - "

"And," the old man continued as he glared at his son-in-law, "I think that other boy isn't the only one we should be worried about."

"He saved your life a few minutes ago!" Joaquin sputtered.  
 _  
"After_ he was about to kill me!" Picking up a dropped sword, the general began to stalk towards Manolo. "You think I don't know what you're capable of. The rest of them all think they're dealing with another man when they talk about him. But who's to say we are?"

"I'd stop right about there if I were you," said Xibalba.

The old man prattled on, unaware of how Manolo's hands were slowly clenching into fists. "You were almost him, yes? Then how different are you from him, really? What's going to stop you from turning on us if we don't get my daughter back? And if we do, who's to say you won't treat her and that child like - "

What happened next happened so fast that hardly any of them could comprehend it. Manolo spun around. With one hand, he wordlessly grabbed General Posada by his hook and wrenched his arm behind his back. With the other, he ripped the sword out of his hands before shoving him away. The old man whirled back to face him, ready to retaliate, and found the point of the blade hovering inches from his face.

Manolo's own face was not contorted with rage as it might have been. In fact, it was an eerily calm blank. This was not ordinary anger. He had been pushed past that, into something far more dangerous.

"I will never do what he's done to anybody," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not to my friends. _Certainly_ not to my family. And _you_ are never going to suggest that again."

"Or else what?" the general spat back.

Manolo simply glanced from him to the blade of the sword and then back again.

"…You wouldn't," the general said, taking a few steps backwards. "What would Maria think?"

"Maria's not here," Manolo answered. "And if we don't start working together to stop this, she never will be." He slowly lowered the sword. "Do you understand?"

The general, now gaping, could only nod.

Xibalba leaned down towards Joaquin, both of them wide-eyed. "Has he ever done this before?"

"Nope."

"…He really does love that girl, doesn't he?"

"Yep."

With a shuddering sigh, Manolo threw down the sword. "Pick that up," he told Joaquin. "Before I do something stupid with it."

Another breath, and he had molded his expression into a hard and determined one. "I don't think we have much time," he said as he walked back to the rest of the group. "We need to get to the Land of the Forgotten and go after him."

"You can't just leave."

The group cringed at La Muerte's words. "You sure you wanna tell him that?" Xibalba said.

Manolo's eyes briefly flickered, but his face didn't change. "And why not?"

"You wouldn't win if you fought him," she continued. "Not with the power he has over you."

General Posada rolled his eyes. "That's nonsense - "

Manolo lifted a hand, and he immediately stopped. "What power?" he asked the other La Muerte.

"Those potions he makes from the dust of souls. And…"

"Go on."

"The link his mind shares with yours."

Xibalba raised his eyebrows. "Is that where those visions are coming from? His memories?"

"Not just his memories. They're of the same mind. You should be able to see whatever he knows and thinks, and he can do it to you."

Xibalba groaned. "Well, _that's_ not going to give us any problems."

"Maybe not." Manolo was pacing back and forth, deep in thought. "So you say we can't just fight him head-on? Then we won't."

"What other way is there, boy?" General Posada scoffed.

"I have an idea. But it's going to need all of us for it to work. Even you," he added with a glance at La Muerte.

She recoiled. "That wager has caused enough grief for my people already. I'm not going to risk bringing them any more."

"It won't, my lady. This will end it. He'll never hurt anyone again once we're though with him, I promise."

"You don't know that."

"But I do know how he thinks."

"He's got a point," said Xibalba.

She looked at each of them, and then sighed. "Very well."

Manolo nodded. "Alright, then. Here's what we need to do…"

"Kid's not too bad with this whole leader thing, huh?" said the Candle Maker.

General Posada was still scowling. "I suppose not."


	10. Chapter 10

_Skritch. Skritch. Skritch._

"Come on…"

_Skritch. Skritch. Skritch._

Maria groaned as another twinge of pain ran through her. She sighed as she slumped into a sitting position and leaned against the cold wall, a hand resting on her belly. "You're gonna have to cooperate with me on this, you know."

She couldn't say how long she had been trapped. It might have been hours by that point, or it might have been days. Her sense of time had blurred into a dull haze of nothingness, on the verge of stopping altogether. She just prayed it hadn't been as long as it felt.

The bricks that made up the walls were held together by a dusty, tightly packed grey mortar. It had cracked and crumbled when Maria had scratched at it with a finger. So she had slipped off one of her boots, knelt down and begun to jab the heel into the crevice. The mortar was tougher than it had looked, but it fell away chip by tiny chip. Eventually she had removed enough to take one brick and wrench it out of place. She pulled it forward, exposing a gust of musty air and a dark space behind the wall. Perhaps not large enough to stand in, but judging from how deep into it her arm went, it was large enough to crawl through. _Maybe it leads outside,_ she had thought with a glimmer of hope.

Sliding the bricks she had already removed back into place, Maria staggered back to the bed and collapsed. She shouldn't be doing such work when she was so far along, and her aching muscles made sure that she knew it.

_I don't have a choice,_ she thought. _I need to get us out of here._

She closed her eyes and thought of Manolo - _her_ Manolo, not the thing that was off lurking who knew where. She thought of his arms wrapped around her, his face full of love and concern. Of him taking her home, lying beside her and chasing away her nightmares. Of how he would look as he held their baby for the first time -

"Have you slept?"

Maria recoiled at the sound of his voice. He hadn't made any noise coming in. Slowly opening her eyes, she glared at him with all the steel and venom she could muster.

The other Manolo approached the bed slowly, his arms folded behind his back and his head slightly bowed. His idea of looking gentle, she supposed. "You look tired," he said.

She sat up, not taking her eyes off him. "I don't want to."

He sat on the bed a few feet away from her, his eyes darting towards the ground as though thinking of something to say. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he finally answered. It was an attempt to sound reassuring, but it came out too quick, too commanding.

Maria was about to speak when the baby squirmed again. She placed her hands over it, wincing at the sensation. The other Manolo started and glowered at the bulge, as though wishing he could get rid of it then and there.

"It's not hurting me," Maria said quickly. "That just means it's growing."

The sound of his voice was what caused it. _You're not my papa,_ the baby seemed to be saying. _I want to go home._

Inching towards her until they were nearly touching, the other Manolo lifted a hand. He stroked Maria's face, tracing the shape of her lips and brushing back her curls. She froze as she felt his pointed fingers glide across her skin, not daring to move in case it made him angry.  
 _  
_"I do love you, you know," he whispered. "I always have."

She looked away and said nothing.

His hand traveled down, avoiding her stomach, and laced his fingers with hers. "I'll give you anything you want, Maria," he said. "You don't even have to ask. Just tell me."

"You won't give me the only thing I want."

He sighed, a mixture of sorrow and frustration. "I know how you feel about all this."

"Do you?"

"I know you don't love me. I don't expect you to right away." His grip on her hand slowly tightened. "But I think you can learn. That's why I want to do something for you. A favor."

She inched away until he was holding her at arm's length. "And what's that?"

"No more secrets," he answered. "I'll tell you everything you want to know, I swear! Just ask!" He smiled and nodded eagerly, as though he considered this a major accomplishment.

Maria looked back up at him, her eyes cold. "Fine. First off, where are we?"

"My castle," he answered with a smirk. "Xibalba left it to gather dust, along with everything in it. That was his mistake, you see." He pulled a vial from his bandolier. "I used his books to learn about making _these."_

Lovely.

"And how long have you been down here?"

He shrugged. "Years, probably. It can't really be told."

"Is there anyone else here? From San Angel?"

His smile faded. "Just me these days."

"…What happened?"

"I was tricked," he said, old anger simmering in his voice. "I had Xibalba's task all figured out, and he still said I failed. He trapped me here. And then Chakal…you remember him? He must have destroyed the town. Everyone ended up down here. And you…" He suddenly stopped, tensing up and looking away.

"What about me?"

"…Nothing." He tried to pull away, but Maria's grip on him tightened.

"What happened to me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"It doesn't matter."

"I think I deserve to know."

"It doesn't matter!" he snapped. "Not anymore. You're here now."

Maria stared at him another moment, then pulled her hand away and stood up. "I get it now."

"What do you mean?"

"You lost one version of me, so you think you can just replace her with another one. Doesn't matter what we want, right?"

He stood. "You don't understand - "

"Did you care about her at all?"

"Of course I did - "

"No. You just think you did, because you just think you're Manolo. You're _not._ You never will be." She raised her voice as she went on, getting in his face. "And when I get out of here and find the real Manolo, we're going to make you pay for what you've done to us!"

The other Manolo shrank back, startled. Then his wide eyes narrowed, and his mouth morphed into a thin, determined line. When he spoke again, his voice was low and threatening. "So you want to know where he is."

Reaching into a pocket of his bandolier, he pulled out a small, rolled piece of black cloth and pressed it into her hands.

Maria unrolled it, and when she saw the patches of blood staining the familiar skulls and winged hearts, her own blood ran cold. "Where did you get this?"

"It's all that was left of him. He didn't make it past the cave guardian."

Maria stared down at the cloth and slowly crumpled it in her hands. She held it to her chest and bowed her head as she slumped against the wall, tears brimming in her eyes.

The other Manolo reached forward and cupped her face. "There's no need to cry - "

_"Get away from me!"_ she screamed, shoving him back with both hands.

"What?"

"I said _get away from me,"_ she snarled as the tears began to stream down her face.

_But you have me,_ he thought. _Why should you be sad when things can still be the same?_ "I…I don't…"

Then he gasped and grabbed his head. The image of something impossible had flashed in his mind. "How did he get down here…?"

"Who?" Maria demanded.

"None of your business," he snapped. "Stay here." He turned and left the room, locking the door behind him. _He won't escape this time._

Inside, Maria cried outright as she clutched the piece of Manolo's jacket. The baby twitched again, as though sensing that something was very, very wrong.

She forced her sobs to die away and held the cloth up to her face, breathing in the scent of him. It only made her sob harder. _No,_ she thought to herself. _Not yet._

She stroked her belly, then looked at the loose bricks in the wall. "For both of you."

He had taken her world, planned to take her child and now he had taken her husband. _About time I took something of yours._


	11. Chapter 11

"Yeah!" Jane shouted through a mouthful of cookies. "Kick his butt, Maria!"

"He’s in trouble now!" The goth boy happily punched and kicked the air until he fell over.

"It certainly seemed that way," Xibalba said, chuckling. "Maria began working even harder to uncover the secret passageway she had discovered, and she swore that if her captor dared to return, she would be ready for him.

"What about you guys?" Sasha asked.

"The other La Muerte had allowed us to pass between her two worlds, into the Land of the Forgotten," he answered. "It was time to get our plan going."

* * *

 

_"Man,"_ the Candle Maker said as he looked around, “this place is more of a dump than usual.”

"What do you mean, ‘more than usual’?"

"Okay, maybe _dump_ is kind of a strong word…”

The grey hues of the realm had faded almost to a pitch black. The stalagmites and stalactites had grown even longer and more numerous. They jutted down from the ceiling and across the paths in razor-sharp points. Piles of dust lined the worn, nearly ruined paths. Some still had faces and moaned for help as the group passed. Some spirits not yet gone lingered by their companions, until they saw Manolo and fled shrieking. The mortals gasped or shuddered and kept their eyes locked downwards.

The other La Muerte looked sadly at the souls trapped in dust and waved a hand, causing them to scatter into nothing. “It’s better that way, you know,” she told Xibalba when she noticed him staring. “The first relief they’ve had in years.”

"I didn’t think of it like that."

"Of course you didn’t." She glared at him, then her face fell once more. "I did not believe you could be capable of such things, Xibalba."

"Neither did I."

"You just haven’t found an excuse yet."

"I hope I never do, then," he continued. "I still have my wife, and you can wager I’d never her the way he treated you."

"What wager is this mad venture part of?"

He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

"You would not help a mortal willingly. _Especially_ not Manolo.”

"People change, my dear. For worse and for better. Those two wouldn’t call me a friend, but they’d politely refuse an invitation to tea instead of just punching me in the face. Right, boy?"

"I think Maria and I would answer that question _very_ differently.”

"Hush!" La Muerte suddenly exclaimed. She ducked behind a cluster of stalagmites sticking out in all directions and motioned for the others to follow. "We’re nearly there," she said, pointing between two spikes. "This ought to be close enough."

The ancient castle was sagging in on itself, jagged and crumbling and leaning to one side. The rusty chains barely held it above the bubbling lake of lava. Even from the distance they were at, it looked more dismal than Manolo remembered.

"Maria is in there?" Ixa said. "That awful place?"

Manolo took a deep breath, forcing his face back into a placid mask before it twisted out of control. “Not for long.”

"Good. I get to break his fingers."

"We aren’t going just yet. General?"

"What are we waiting for?" his father-in-law said.

"It’s important. I need you to promise me something."

The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me what it is first.”

"If something happens to me," Manolo said quietly, "I want you to get Maria out of here no matter what. Take her back home. Make sure they’re both cared for. You can let her grieve if she wants, but don’t let her grieve forever. Just…promise me you’ll make them happy."

Everyone was silent. General Posada stared at his son-in-law, his lips pulled tight. Finally he nodded. “I will.”

Manolo nodded in acknowledgement, then turned around and stared at the castle. He concentrated on the image, letting his gaze trail over every twist and turn of the design. Then he closed his eyes and pushed it out to the fringes of his mind, willing it to be seen. _I’m here. Come and get me._

He gasped and winced as he felt a surge of rage and annoyance pierce his mind like a knife to the brain. “He saw it.”

"Well, is he coming?" Joaquin asked.

_You aren’t going free this time!_

Manolo shook himself free of the link. “He’s coming. Time to go. Are you ready, Xibalba?”

He nodded. “Be careful in there.”

The other La Muerte raised her eyebrows and smiled a bit before she could stop herself.

Joaquin drew his sword. “No retreat?”

"No surrender." _I’m coming, Maria._

Xibalba snapped his fingers, and the group of mortals vanished.

* * *

 

The world suddenly turned even darker and much damper, and the rough dirt and gravel beneath their feet became smooth stone. Chuy growled at the new surroundings as the humans raised their weapons, looking up and down the narrow hall of the castle.

"So where’s he hiding her?" Joaquin whispered.

Manolo paused. He hadn’t thought of a plan for that. “I can find it from him.”

"But he’ll know we’re in here."

"We have to risk it. There isn’t enough time to just go looking." Closing his eyes again, he let his mind wander out and brush the fringes of his counterpart’s consciousness. Hopefully it wouldn’t be enough to get his attention…

_There!_ It was only a flash, not even a second, but it was there. A stone door painted red, and two overlapping **M** s carved into the rock.

"Manny?" Joaquin asked. "Where are you going?"

Manolo was already running off down the hall, eyes darting left and right to look at each door he passed. _It’s close. It has to be._

He ran by one door, then doubled back. There it stood, just as he had seen it. He ran his fingers over the worn carvings and the peeling paint, blinking back tears. Grabbing the handle, he twisted it, only to find it locked. 

"Maria!" he said in something between a shout and a whisper as he knocked on the door. "It’s me!"

The door handle was rusted and fragile. Perhaps the locks were the same way. Sticking the tip of his sword through the door jamb, Manolo brought it down onto the locks. Weakened by age, they crumbled beneath his blow. The door, now loose, slowly swung inwards. Manolo pushed it open the rest of the way as he ran inside. “Maria…!”

Then he felt a sharp, rough pain on the top of his head and crumpled to the floor.

Maria was next to the door, perched atop a small pile of bricks and holding one in her hand. She glowered at her husband as he lay on his side, his head spinning. _"That’s_ for…” She trailed off, as he rolled onto his back, revealing his face. “Manolo!”

The others found the doorway just in time to see Maria drop the brick and kneel beside Manolo, cradling his head in her hands. “What are…but how did you…?”

Manolo simply grinned and laughed as he sat up and pulled her into a hug, tears streaming down both their faces. “Sorry it took so long,” he whispered.

"I thought you were dead," she said as she pulled away.

"Me? Really?" He looked down and saw a piece of cloth tied around her wrist - the ripped piece of his jacket. _He must have shown it to her._

"I’m alright, Maria," he said. "There’s nothing to be afraid of." He leaned forward, intending to kiss her.

Maria stiffened at his words, and for a moment, she saw the skeleton instead of the man. She shrank away before she could stop herself, eyes wide as she shielded her womb.

Manolo froze, his look of happiness fading to one of confusion and worry. “Maria…?”

New tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking down. “I-I didn’t mean to, I was thinking about…”

"Him," he finished.

Maria looked back up. “You know about him?”

He nodded. “Has he hurt you?”

She held her breath and didn’t answer.

Reaching out, Manolo gently took her hands. “You can tell me, Maria. I need to know.”

"…He hasn’t hurt me. Yet."

"And the baby?"

"Safe, I think."

"Come on, then!" General Posada exclaimed, trying to pull his daughter to her feet.

Maria did a double take. “What are you guys doing here?”

"It’s a long story," Joaquin said.

Pulling out of her father’s grasp, Maria turned back to her husband. “Manolo, we can’t leave yet. We need to do something about him. We won’t be safe until we do.”

He nodded. “What did you have in mind?”

She bit her lip and gestured awkwardly to the brick.

Chuy, meanwhile, was sniffing at the edges of the large hole now in the wall. “Bleh?”

"I found that looking for a way out," Maria said.

"Pretty roomy," Joaquin said as he stepped inside of it. "Might be good for - "

_Thud. Thud. Thud._ Sharp, heavy footsteps were sounding on the floor above them.

Maria grabbed Manolo’s arm, her face growing pale. “He’s coming back…”

"In there!" General Posada said, ushering them all towards the passageway. "We can hide!"

Maria hung back. “I’m staying out here.”

"But Maria - "

"I’ll keep him distracted, and the rest of you can surprise him. That’s a plan, isn’t it?"

Manolo placed a hand on her cheek. “Be careful.”

"You too." She pulled him down and kissed him, holding his head in place and pulling away slowly before letting him go. He followed the others into the passageway, his eyes still on her. The dislodged bricks were hastily put back up to disguise the hole, and the footsteps grew louder and closer.

Maria sat on the bed, trying to get her heartbeat back under control. _Distract him. You have to._ Focusing on the lingering sensation of Manolo’s lips on hers, she managed a smile as the door swung open.


	12. Chapter 12

The other Manolo had been strapping on his swords and refilling his bandolier with vials when he felt it. A tiny pinprick at the edge of his mind, ending just as quickly as it had begun. Almost as though it was trying not to be noticed. Or perhaps it simply hadn't meant to be there. Shaking his head, he tried to think nothing of it.

Until a few moments later, when he heard a loud _thud_ from Maria's room just below.

He was off at a brisk pace in an instant, leaving behind one sword and the rest of the vials. He took the steps of the stairs two at a time, swinging around the end of the banister and nearly breaking into a run as he approached the red door. Was she escaping? Was she trying to hurt herself? She wouldn't, not with the child. Would she?

When he saw the door, he slowed down and stopped. It hung slightly inwards, as though broken open from the outside. His hands shook as he pushed it open the rest of the way. "Maria?"

She was still there, sitting on the bed. She was smiling at him for the first time, polite and warm, and it would have been a welcome sight at any other time.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking around as he stepped inside.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She was more serene than he'd ever seen her.

"I heard something."

"I didn't."

Nothing seemed to be out of place at first glance, until he looked at the wall. Several of the bricks seemed off, not lining up quite the way they should. He walked towards them, reaching out a hand.

"Everything's fine, Manolo."

He froze. "You've never called me that."

"It's your name, isn't it?"

He turned around, staring at her in confusion. She stood up and walked to him, placing her hands on his shoulders as she continued to smile. "You like you think something's wrong, _mi amor."_

He searched her face for a hint of sincerity. "You," he said as he pulled away from her, "hate me."

"I thought I did," she answered. "But then I realized there's a lot more to think about."

He heard a noise like shifting stone coming from the wall behind him and turned to look, but Maria grabbed his head and turned it back to face her. "And we have a lot to talk about."

"What are you hiding behind that wall?" Pushing her away, he drew his sword and stabbed the cracks between the bricks. They shuddered and fell out of place when he drew away the blade, and a large chunk of the wall came crashing down.

The other Manolo gaped at the sight of the terrified figures hiding in the passageway. _"You!"_

"Get him!" Joaquin shouted, hurling himself out of the wall and onto the skeleton.

They both fell to the floor and writhed, trying to pin each other down. Joaquin cried out as the other Manolo slashed him across the collar bone with his fingers, then threw him aside. Springing back to his feet, the spirit pulled out the knife at his belt and hurled it at General Posada, pinning the old man to the wall by his sleeve. Ixa and Chuy rushed at him, only to jump aside as he threw a vial of the red liquid. It smashed against the floor, where it ate through the stone.

Manolo grabbed Maria's hand and tried to pull her towards the door. "Get out of here before - "

He screamed and gasped for breath as the other Manolo grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the bed frame, lifting him off his feet. "I _told_ you she's mine now!" he shouted, trembling.

The other man clawed at the fingers latched around his throat. "She isn't anyone's…!"

"No one's going to take her from me again - "

_"Stop it!"_ Maria screamed. Grabbing the other Manolo by the back of his shirt, she hauled him off of her husband, spun him around and slapped him across the face. It stung like ice, and he reeled back from it as a hand flew to his cheek.

"Look at you," she said. "Do you really think all of _this_ will make me want to stay with you? Make me _love_ you?"

"You did once!"

"That wasn't me. That was her. And what about her, anyway?"

"Why should she care?" he said, his voice beginning to shake and crack.

_"You_ should care. Is this what she would have wanted for you? What would she say if she was here to see this?"

"She's _gone!"_ The other Manolo sank to his knees, frightened tears forming in his eyes. "Please," he choked out. "Don't leave me alone again. I need you."

Maria shook her head. "You need your Maria, just like I need my Manolo. She's the one you're in love with."

He looked at the floor as he slumped even further, and the tears began to drip down his face. "She's gone," he repeated in a whisper. "She's gone because of me…"

Manolo winced and closed his eyes as he put a hand to his head. "What's wrong?" Joaquin asked as he got up.

"It's him." The images of him choosing the sword, losing the wager and seeing Maria turn to dust were playing over and over in both their minds.

Curling into a ball, the other Manolo rested his head against his knees and began to quietly cry.

No one said a thing. They simply looked at one another, confused and stunned. Maria was staring at the skeleton with wide, shocked eyes.

General Posada pulled himself free of the knife. "We need to go."

"No," Manolo said. Pushing the other Manolo's mind out of his, he cautiously approached the man and knelt beside him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I really am."

"You can't be," the other Manolo mumbled. "You don't understand."

"That you've had to live with the choice you made? Every moment you've been down here?"

His counterpart slowly looked up at him, his eyes hesitant and guilty.

"It wasn't your fault," Manolo continued. "You just thought you were doing the right thing."

"But I couldn't save her. I couldn't save anyone."

"It was close for us, you know. Just you being there might not have helped in the end."

He looked back down. "Then I should have died with her."

Maria came closer to him now, kneeling at her husband's side. "Do you remember her?"

"I remember everything about her."

"Then…she's not really gone, is she? You didn't need me to bring her back. She's still with you."

The other Manolo reached into his shirt and pulled out the vial of black dust, staring at it as he turned it around in his hand. "I…I still don't know what to do."

Manolo gently took his hand. "You still have a story," he said. "Keep writing it."

"…You think I could?"

"We did. I don't see why you couldn't."

The other Manolo looked up at him, and he felt something lightly prod at his mind. _Can I look at something?_

_Of course._

The other Manolo closed his eyes as he let the other man's memories flow into his mind. He saw him standing with Maria at the altar, falling asleep and waking up to her smile, holding her, learning he would be a father. He felt the wonder, the disbelief and the joy, and he smiled tearfully as they overwhelmed him. They ebbed away slowly as he opened his eyes again.

"Is…is that what you have?" he asked, almost childlike in his fascination.

"Every day."

He looked at Maria, then slowly reached out and reverently placed a hand on the baby. "I can't take that away from you two," he finally said. "I wasn't strong enough to have it in the first place." His smile faded. "Go. Back to your own world. Live. You deserve it."

The others were frantically beckoning to them now. Standing up, Manolo and Maria slowly backed towards the door.

"One more thing," the other Manolo said. He was looking at the vial of black dust again. "Do you think there's anything after this place?"

"I don't know," Manolo said.

"Do you think…she might be there?"

"If you want to find out, that's your choice."

"Yes." The other Manolo plucked a vial of the red liquid from his bandolier and uncorked it. He took one last look at the group, then tipped his head back and drank the substance. Immediately he began to cough and convulse, his eyes slipping in and out of focus as he stared out into space. "Maria…?"

And then he was dust.


	13. Chapter 13

"'The sails were filled, and fair the light winds blew, as glad to waft him from his native home. And fast the white rocks faded from his'…are you okay?"

"Hmm."

Maria sighed softly as she closed the book. "I'll take that as a no, then."

They had staggered in a daze out of the castle, to the shock of the waiting gods. The other La Muerte had instantly all back to her palace, where she insisted that they rest awhile. A brief attempt had been made to pull Maria from the group for an inspection, but she had her arms wrapped around one of Manolo's and gripped it until her knuckles were white. There was no apparent harm done to her body, the goddess declared after looking her over, nor to the child. Perhaps they should stay another day or so, just to make sure everything was alright? The others had thanked her for the offer and for her help, but they'd already been away from home too long.

"Of course," she said. "Farewell. And good luck with things," she added, giving Xibalba a warm smile.

The Candle Maker took out the second jar of thin, glowing wax he had prepared and poured its contents on the floor. Light shot up from the puddle, swirling around them as they shielded their eyes. The bright colors of the palace faded away, mellowing into shades of tan and brown. Slowly but surely, the ruined but still-standing Sanchez parlor appeared around them.

"Now _that,"_ Xibalba said, "is something you'll have to fix on your own."

And so they did. General Posada seemed the one most determined to forget the whole affair, as he threw himself into drills and meetings with his soldiers and made his visits to the house less frequent. When he spoke to his son-in-law, however, it was with sullen respect. Chuy growled at nearly everyone who dared to come near Maria. Joaquin practically moved into the house for several days, keeping a constant eye on his best friend and often staying up late alongside Ixa "just in case." Maria told them there was nothing to worry about. Her husband had other ideas.

"I could leave for a few days if you want," he said to Maria that first evening. "I'd understand. I wouldn't want to look at me, either."

"You're staying right here," she answered, taking him by the hands. "It'll do us both good."

"Are you sure?"

"Just hold me."

So he did, and he had hardly stopped a week later.

Placing the book on her bedside table, Maria slung one arm across his chest and reached up with the other to lightly run her fingers through his hair. "Tell me what you're thinking about."

Manolo stared up listlessly at the ceiling as he lay beside her. "I can't stop thinking about him."

"Even if he was still there, he wouldn't come after me again."

"That's not really what I meant…"

"Then what did you mean?"

He took a breath and slowly let it out. "I reached for the sword first. I almost ended up like him."

"You wouldn't have done what he did."

"We don't know that."

She frowned. "Manolo, who gave you this idea?"

"No one," he lied. Telling her what her father had said would only bring more trouble. "It's just…everything he did to you…"

"You might not know," she said, "but I do." Taking his hand, she placed it on her belly. "They can hear you, you know. They know your voice, and they knew it even while he was around. They knew he wasn't you. They believe in you, and that's enough for me."

Manolo stared at the unborn child in wonder, a faint light coming back into his eyes. He slowly sat up, his hand remaining where Maria had placed it. "Do you think she's really okay…?"

That was when a short, sharp jab came from within the womb and reverberated through both of them.

Maria gasped and let her head fall back onto her pillow, wincing from the force of the kick. Manolo pulled his hand away, his jaw dropping before he grinned and laughed in delighted amazement.

"Great," Maria muttered. _"Just_ great." But as she felt Manolo trailing light kisses up and down her abdomen while whispering sweet words to the baby, she couldn't help but smile. _Yeah, she's okay._

They would all be.

* * *

"And so it was that those who survived these strange events lived out their days in peace," Xibalba said. "For a while, anyway."

The children let out a breath they had been holding in unison, as though released from a tension.

"Look at them, Balby," La Muerte said, frowning. "See what you've done?"

"You helped!"

"I tried to tell you it was a - "

"I thought it was a good story," Sasha said.

The gods both turned their heads and stared down at her. "You did?"

"Yeah!" Goth Boy added. "It was cool! Kind of creepy. But still cool."

"And it's a good lesson," Jane said.

"Lesson in what?"

"You shouldn't take the choices you make for granted. And you should think about what's best for others, not just what you want."

Xibalba raised his eyebrows. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it." He smiled victoriously at his wife. "Guess there was a use for this story after all, _mi amor."_

"Perhaps you're right…"

"Of course I am!" He turned back to the children. "You'd best run along. Don't want that snow to melt before you've gotten at it, right?"

They fidgeted in their seats. "There'll be more snow next week…"

"Don't tell me you want to hear another one."

"I was hoping we could look around the library," Joao said. "Can we? Please?"

A small smile crossed La Muerte's face. "I'm not sure…"

"We promise not to tell anyone the secrets of the universe or whatever!" Goth Boy told her.

She laughed. "Oh, why not?"

Shrieking with glee, the children immediately leapt off the sofas and scattered across the room, pulling books off shelves.

"They really are unpredictable," the goddess mused. "Aren't they, Balby?"

Xibalba had picked up the pitcher of eggnog they had brought with them. "There's still some left. I doubt they'd mind much. Want a sip?" He snapped his fingers, summoning two glasses in front of them and a sprig of mistletoe to hover over them. "I think we need a little cheer in this place."

La Muerte smirked, then plucked the plant out of the air. "Nice try."


End file.
